krizariel

[krizariel]

Sofa and Cushion

[krizariel]

Continuation of this: Tim and Jason get it on at the party (eyebrow waggle). They eventually come out to rejoin the event but almost everyone is already gone. Dick has his arms crossed and is not amused.

Dick: Well, now that the whole party knows you're together

Tim: It was a one time thing

Jason: Who I choose to have on my arm isn't their business

Tim: Wait, that doesn't sound very one timey

Jason: Yeah, no, after that performance, ain't no one else getting you but me

Tim: Presumptuous

Jason: Am I wrong?

Tim: You can't make me admit to anything

Jason, grins.

Dick: So, hey, yeah, still here guys, just know Bruce heard things and I'm not smoothing that over so have fun with that. Shovels, holes, be good to each other. That whole thing. You'll each get enough of a lecture shortly.

Tim: Why would we get a lecture now?

Jason: Uh, we should probably leave. Right now

Dick, pulls out RR and RH panic buttons and pushes both: Probably

Tim, Jason and Dick's phones start going off. In the distance, Bruce's phone is going off.

[krizariel]

Sleep Deprived Area Vigilante Harassed by Local Crime Lord

Daddy Cop JayTim Edition. XD

I had to reuse that car from the stony version so here ya go. lol

JayTim Karaoke Series:

JT 1 JT2 JT3 JT4

Also, if you want a free black and white version to color, head over to my patreon. If you like my stuff and want to support me, check out any of the links below. :D

commission info / patreon / ao3 / Buy Me a Coffee ☕ / merch store

The hilarious song under the cut:

[krizariel]

just another fic in my wip folder about kid!Tim and ghost!Jason:

Tim doesn’t get a chance to visit Robin’s grave until well after the funeral. He’s been waiting anxiously for the press to lose interest in the tragedy that is Jason Todd’s death, made popular only because of the man that adopted him. From what Tim knows of him, Jason would hate it, but Jason isn’t around anymore to call the press out on their behavior. 

It’s been raining a lot since the announcement. Gotham is always downcast; always inflated with heavy clouds and thick smog, but it’s been worse lately. The streets are constantly slick with rain, to the point where flood warnings have been going off on the television for weeks. It’s as if Gotham herself is in mourning for the bird that was grounded too soon. 

The graveyard grounds are thick with mud. With grim determination, Tim trudges through each sucking step. It’s hard work that leaves him panting under his raincoat. The earth itself is begging him to turn back but he’s far too stubborn for that. 

It’s dark which is why Tim thinks he’s alone at first. The flowers left on Jason���s grave are bedraggled from the storm. Tim’s seen pictures of the angel built into the stone but it’s different being so close. The gloom makes it seem taller, more severe. Rain drips down from its praying palms, washing away some of the mud creeping up the bottom of the grave. 

Tim rocks back on his heels as he takes it all in, suddenly unsure of what to do. He’s never been to a funeral before. He’s got no first hand experience with how these things go. There is only the constriction of his lungs, like a vice slowly closing in on his ribs, and the tears he’s cried since he realized the announcement wasn’t just a cover. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, though he isn’t sure what it is he’s apologizing for. For thinking Robin above death? He saw the Flying Grayson’s fall, he should know better by now that no matter how magical a person seems, they’re always going to be left shattered across the ground.

He blinks water from his eyelashes; is it rain or tears? Tim doesn’t know. He places his bouquet of flowers amongst all the rest. White orchids and blue forget-me-nots. You are always loved. You are never forgotten. 

It doesn’t feel like enough. 

He sniffles, sure that he’s crying now, and wipes a hand across his face. “Robin,” he whispers, like the secret it is. 

There’s a wet sucking sound from the other side of the grave; Tim freezes in place. For a moment there’s nothing but the pitter patter of rain, and then comes something like a sob. He approaches the side of the grave hesitantly to peer around the back. There’s a small body back there, curled up on itself and splattered in mud. 

Tim gasps and quickly rounds the grave. “Are you okay?” 

There’s no reply. 

He bends down next to the body. They’re shaking harshly; a flash of lightning shows that some of the patches of mud look darker, almost like blood. Tim hurries to pull his raincoat off to wrap around the stranger. 

“Come on,” he says, shivering as the rain begins to soak through his clothes. “I’ll help you, okay? You just have to walk.” 

There’s no reply but when he stands the stranger stands too. He takes their arm to lead them back the way he came, steps even more determined than before. It’s a task to fit two bodies on his bike but he hardly notices a weight difference. He squints through the rain on his way home, using all his concentration to ensure they don’t crash. His teeth are chattering by the time they arrive at Drake Manor so he can only imagine how cold his guest must be. 

“This is my house,” he explains, as he lets them in. He’s tracking mud across the floor but he’ll have to deal with it later. “Come on, I’ll take you to the bathroom so you can shower. You can wear my clothes.” 

Tim starts the shower for them when they say nothing. He makes sure it’s nice and warm before forcing himself away. “It’s ready. Use whatever you want, I’ll leave you clothes by the door.” 

Again, there’s no answer. 

He hurries through his own shower in the guest bathroom, mind racing with thoughts of what he needs. They’ll need hot food. Blankets, too. What if the stranger is in shock and that’s why they’re silent? He nearly works himself into a tizzy over the possibility and rushes back to his room. 

The shower is still going so he waits. And waits. And waits. 

“Hello?” He finally calls. The door creaks open as he peeks in. The room is thick with steam; he squints at the shape of his raincoat on the floor and looks further in to the shower. “Do you need help?” 

There’s no reply. Tim steps forward hesitantly; he knocks on the glass door before pushing it open a crack. There’s no one there. 

Here’s what Tim knows: there are only one set of footprints on the wooden floor. His bike didn’t feel like it had another person’s body weight on it when he rode home. He doesn’t remember ever touching skin or feeling any warmth from the stranger. They never spoke.

Hallucination? Maybe. But Tim didn’t move the bottles in the shower and he didn’t put his raincoat on the floor. Something isn’t right and he’s going to get to the bottom of it. 

Tim returns to the graveyard the next day. His nose is stuffed up and he’s got a cough from being in the rain for so long the day before, but he’s determined. Someone was at Jason Todd’s grave last night, someone who was definitely a child like Tim. Robin would make sure they were safe; Robin would solve the mystery. So Tim can do nothing less. 

The rain has washed away any traces of last night. The holes his feet left behind have been overtaken by puddles, which leaves him no way to look for a second set. He brings out the little hand held flashlight he brought along to search the gravesite. There’s no trace of anyone. 

Tim rocks back on his heels with a frown. He thinks back over his actions the previous day; he didn’t bring flowers this time, if this is magical in nature does that have something to do with it? He said words too, though he doesn’t think they were all that magical. Either way, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Robin.” 

He cracks an eye open and feels silly when there’s no change. “Maybe it was just a hallucination,” he mumbles. “Robin would know what to do.” 

There’s a gasping sound from behind him. Tim whirls around to find a small figure bent double in the mud. He kneels beside them, hands hovering a few inches away from their skin. 

[krizariel]

Hi! It’s Liz_short_for_lizard321 on AO3

Can you write a fluffy exercise fic with Jason trying to impress Tim with his strength and ends up doing something dumb like tripping over a barbell and Tim is just rolling around dying-laughing? ❤️

absolutely!

hope you enjoy it! i had fun writing it, and it was a nice break from working out the dates/event sequence for even if it doesn’t make sense. the next chapter should be up this weekend :D

fic below the cut

Jason adjusted his gloves before raising his hands up to his face. He breathed out before punching forward, landing a solid hit to the punching bag in front of him. He hit it three more times in quick succession. He grabbed the bag to steady it, subtly glancing at Tim to see if the other man was still watching him.

The two of them were in the Bat Gym, working out silently, barely acknowledging each other. It was part of Jason’s truce agreement with Bruce that Jason had to come to the Manor at least once a week, totaling to ten hours a month. He didn’t have to socialize and could even just do casework the whole time, but at least one other person excluding Alfred had to see him there (AKA, he couldn’t hole up in the library or the kitchen for a few hours and call it a day). Most of the time, he chose to come to the gym, but would go to the file room or use the Batcomputer if he needed info for a job. Of course, Jason also had to be non-lethal as The Red Hood. In exchange, the Bats would look the other way for any other crime Red Hood might commit. It wasn’t a terrible truce and now - a few months into it - Jason found himself glad it had included coming to the Manor once a week; it meant he had an excuse to hang around Tim outside of patrol and get to know him better.

Currently, Tim was running on the treadmill, his eyes darting over to Jason. Tim had been casting fleeting glances at him ever since Jason walked in. As they made eye contact again, Tim looked down at his control panel, increasing the speed of the treadmill.

Jason hid a grin behind his arm before dropping it from the bag. He raised his hands back up, punching it a few times before glancing back at Tim. He was still watching. Jason turned back to the bag, hitting it harder than he had before, putting more power behind each punch. If Tim wanted a show, Jason would make sure it was a damn impressive one.

He hit the bag with quick, powerful punches, alternating between hands as he landed blows. Tim was keeping his gaze longer now, not looking away as fast to pretend he wasn’t looking. Jason grinned, pleased, as he kept up his assault on the bag. He raised his leg, coming at the bag from the side as he kicked it a couple times before punching it again. He attacked with a right hook, sending the bag spinning away from him. He stepped back, catching his breath as he looked over at Tim.

Tim was still running extremely fast, probably hitting nine or ten miles per hour, something Jason was still impressed by despite having already seen Tim run like that in the field. Tim glanced down, but only to turn up the treadmill’s speed as if he was sensing Jason’s thoughts. Jason huffed a laugh, stopping the bag’s swinging as he watched Tim. Jason wondered if he’d run track during high school. It would’ve been stupid for the coach to see his ability in PE and not ask him to join.

There wasn’t much else in the room besides other workout equipment to look at, so Tim’s eyes found him again fairly quickly. Jason dropped his gaze, purposefully and slowly letting his eyes drag down to Tim’s legs, admiring the powerful muscles there. He ran his eyes back up Tim’s body to his face. Tim was flushed, though it could be argued that it was just from the exercise. Jason didn’t really think so though. He turned back to the bag, stopping it before throwing another punch.

He was showing off now, doing things that looked cool rather than what would work his muscles best or bring down an opponent. He spun, kicking the bag before hitting it with his knee. He came in close and punched it four times with the same hand, each blow causing a resounding boom to echo through the space. He backed up a few paces, swinging at the bag with the other hand and landing two more hits. He glanced at Tim, wanting to make sure he was watching. He was, staring at Jason unapologetically as his shoes continued to pound against the treadmill’s track.

Jason grinned, throwing a kick without looking. However, with the bag swinging from his earlier punches, he misjudged its position. His grin fell as he faced no resistance, and his leg’s momentum carried him further than he’d planned. Unable to catch his balance, he toppled over, barely bringing out his hands in time to keep his face from smacking against the floor.

He heard the treadmill power down, and then the sound of Tim clambering off the machine, moving towards him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Jason rolled over onto his back with a groan and shut his eyes. His face was burning. He’d never live this down.

“M’fine,” he managed through gritted teeth.

Tim nudged him with his shoe, “Sure about th-?”

Jason cracked his eyes open. Tim had the back of his knuckles pressed against his mouth, eyes shining with restrained laughter.

Jason pointed a finger at him, “Don’t-no!”

Tim’s shoulders shook. He removed his hand part-way from his mouth, clearly intending to say something before pressing it back, not trusting himself to speak without laughing yet.

Jason groaned again, lightly banging his head against the floor. Something about that movement caused the dam in Tim to break and all his laughter spilled out. Jason rolled his eyes, sitting up. He yanked at the velcro strap of his glove before pulling it off and tossing it to the floor. Tim was wheezing now, leaning against the elliptical machine.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Jason said, flinging the other glove at Tim. Amid the laughter, Tim didn’t have the awareness to catch it or bat it out of the air so it smacked into his face. For a moment, Jason hoped it would quell his laughter and piss him off. A pissed off Tim he could handle, found it fun to try and ruffle him further. Laughing, teasing Tim…Jason didn’t know what to do with.

Tim paused for a moment before snorting and bursting back into giggles.

“Alright, I’m out,” Jason said, deeply embarrassed as he rose to his feet. “See ya, birdie.”

“Nooo, you can’t!” Tim said, still laughing as he reached for Jason’s arm. “Not ‘cause of meee!”

Jason shook him off, but couldn’t quite wipe the smile from his own face, “Nope. Never coming here again. Can’t do it.” He moved to walk away.

Tim just laughed, grabbing his arm again and turning Jason to face him.

“You can’t,” Tim managed, eyes dancing with amusement. “Don’t you have like three more hours of required being-here time?”

Jason pulled away, still very embarrassed, “I don’t care. I’m done. I’m done. I can’t-”

“Noohooo,” Tim laughed, tugging on his arm. “It’ll be our secret. I won’t tell anyone.”

Jason looked back at him, narrowing his eyes to see if Tim was being sincere or not. Tim cracked a smile and Jason turned away.

“No, see,” he looked back at Tim with a grin, “you are though.”

“No, I won’t!” Tim laughed. “I prom-” he broke into laughter again, bending over towards Jason. He wasn’t leaning on him, but it was damn near close. Jason could smell the sweat in his hair.

Jason rolled his eyes, “Stop laughing.”

Tim took a shaky breath to steady himself and looked up at Jason. He opened his mouth to say something before gasping and laughing again.

“Oh my god, shut up!” Jason said, shoving his chest. Tim kept laughing, and Jason rolled his eyes. He grabbed either side of Tim’s face. “Shut up,” he repeated before kissing him.

Tim’s laugh died in his throat, turning into a sigh as he melted into Jason’s embrace. Jason backed him up against the wall, pushing closer. Tim’s hands grabbed onto the straps of Jason’s tank top, pulling him down. Jason inhaled, his brows drawing together as he deepened the kiss. One of Tim’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, pressing their chests together. Jason shivered before breaking the kiss and pulling away.

Tim was breathing heavily, staring up at him in shock and disbelief.

Jason grinned, “Damn. If I knew that was all it took you to shut up, I’d have done it weeks ago.”

Jason laughed, backing up a few steps as he watched Tim stare at him flabbergasted.

“I - you-” Tim blinked several times. “Wait-!” Tim stumbled forward, tripping over Jason’s discarded gloves but regaining his balance quickly. Tim stared up at him with wide eyes for a few seconds.

Jason bit his lip, suddenly worried he’d misread Tim’s sneaking looks at him today and throughout the past weeks. During his required Manor hours, the forced proximity had brought them closer, and Jason could’ve sworn Tim had been dropping hints the same way he’d been.

Before he was able to worry further, Tim moved back into his space and kissed him, short but desperate. Jason barely had time to register that they were kissing before Tim pulled away.

“Weeks ago?” he questioned in disbelief. “We could’ve been doing this weeks ago?”

Jason smiled, “Maybe.”

Tim scoffed, shaking his head. Jason’s smile turned into a grin.

Tim looked away, grinning too, before looking back at him, “Wanna get outta here?”

“I’ve got two more hours of Bat-sanctioned house arrest for this month,” Jason said, clicking his tongue, his head tilting to the side apologetically.

“Lucky for you,” Tim began with a smirk, “I…am an excellent liar.”

Jason huffed a laugh before tilting Tim’s chin up and kissing him gently. He opened his eyes before Tim did, got to see the look of bliss on his face before his eyes opened and he tamped it down. Tim looked away, feigning nonchalance.

“Anyway…” Tim said, smiling again.

“Anyway,” Jason repeated with a grin, walking towards the exit. Tim chuckled, knocking his shoulder into Jason’s as they walked. Jason slung his arm around Tim’s shoulders, “Whaddya have in mind?”

[krizariel]

@jaytimexchange gift for @azol-otl Their prompt : "JayTim, Tim's first time doing anal. This would be established relationship JayTim, with Jason as the one being penetrated, guiding Tim through it. Jason's already done both positions and despite some teasing isn't judgemental about it. TimBer *was* canon, but Bernard wasn't into anal, and when told about this, explicitly have Jason be non-chalant about it, like "Yeah not every gay guy likes anal, we still poop out of there so it's understandable." with the rating of NSFW" ...Well, I figured can't go wrong with anal so, at least I got that *one* part right(?). Sorry couldn't get the full request but hope you enjoy. Full picture HERE

[krizariel]

Some background on Bruce and Tim's relationship in searching faces and the songs that helped develop/inspire it part 1:

I'm a very playlist oriented person when it comes to the creation process so I figured I'd share some of the story behind the songs of the searching faces playlists. While all the songs have inspired in some way or other, some stand out almost word for word.

You think you know what's best for me/ Self-righteous hypocrite/ I won't go along with it

You told me I was broken/ That I never even stood a chance/ And I don't wanna hurt you/ But I'm gonna fight to keep the upper hand

You see the world in black and white/ I've never been that way/ I live in the shades of gray

I'm scared of what you'd sacrifice/ If you thought you needed to/ Rather than bend the rules/ Would I just be/ A casualty?

You'd rather clip my wings/ Than ever let me fly/ It might be safer on the ground/ But baby I was meant to be up in the sky

The lyrics themselves are pretty self explanatory for those that have read searching faces. Bruce likes to control things and emotions in particular are uncontrollable in ways he doesn't know how to handle. It's why he clashes with Dick and Jason so much, as they're both very passionate and open people. He gets along much better with Damian and Tim because they approach emotions similar to how he does, due to their upbringings (and his influence.)

Part of why he does so poorly with Tim after he's rescued is because he doesn't know how to deal with a Tim Drake, a Red Robin, that doesn't have his emotions locked down. He's never seen Tim with all his walls down and he does horribly when it comes to handling the soft bits of Tim that are no longer shielded and so obviously broken.

In his mind, this is all due to Junior. This isn't actually Tim. The Tim he knows is always in control and he will get him back, even if it means locking him up and whittling away at Junior's psyche. He's relying on the idea that Tim will be better when Junior is gone. Bruce will accept nothing less because admitting that things are different means that he's wrong, that he never knew Tim at all, that he failed again and he can't face that.

(To be clear: this is an explanation, not an excuse)

On Tim's side of things, much like how Jason's showdown with the Joker went, he knows deep down that if Bruce had been the one with a gun put in his hand, staring down Red Robin helpless and bound and with no alternative other than a mad man pulling the trigger himself, he would've done nothing. Another dead Robin was better than breaking his rules, right? The proof was in the scar slashed across Jason's throat.

[krizariel]

Little excerpt from a fic I started way back and have never gotten around to finishing. I really love it though and wanted to show some of the dynamic going on between Arkham Knight!Jason and Joker Junior!Tim:

Jason stares at the corpse laid out on his doorstep. It’s as if a cat has deemed him worthy enough to bring back its kill, except Jason doesn’t even have a cat, let alone one big enough to kill and drag a man up six flights of stairs.

Really, this is just getting ridiculous. 

There’s a bloody smile painted onto the man’s face and a note taped to his chest. Jason yanks it free to glare at the neat script. 

What do you name a knight that won’t die? Sir Vivor.   

For a moment, he can’t process what he’s seeing. He flips the paper over in search of further writing, but there’s nothing. Just a stupid smiley face and that same neat handwriting staring back at him. 

Is that a threat? Up until now his mystery killer has been malevolent to Clown lovers only. Are they widening their pool?  

They know where he lives—or at least, they know of one of his safe houses. Are they watching him right now, trying to make him squirm?

He casts his gaze around, lip curled back into a bitter snarl. They’ll learn the hard way that he doesn’t squirm. Hasn’t since he was left in the Clown’s hands. 

He forces himself to keep the paper despite his desire to rip it to shreds. A solid kick is landed to the corpse’s ribs as he lets out a vicious curse. His comm crackles to life with a touch of his hand. 

“I need a body pickup,” he barks, “and a full scan of my location. Anybody suspicious found lurking around is to be detained.”

He doesn’t give time for a response. He shuts the line off with a sharp twist of his wrist before turning on his heel to stomp away, paper clutched tight in his fist. Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself to do. It’s the smart thing. There could be an ambush inside; it wouldn’t be the first time. He has better things to do than bother with some asshole’s idea of a practical joke. 

Except someone decided to wet his doorstep with blood. And Jason’s pissed. 

His leg swings up to smash his own door down in three hard kicks. He can feel the contact reverberate up his leg but it doesn’t stop him. His own alarm starts to wail before he reaches up to throw the small shrapnel bombs above the door into the kitchen and living room respectively. They go off in a shower of razor sharp metal, piercing through furniture and embedding into the walls. 

Jason pulls a gun and stalks inside. 

“Geez,” someone says from the hall leading into his bedroom. The angle was off or he would have thrown one of the bombs that way too. “If ya hate the place so much, ya could just sell it. No need to go around vandalizin’ property, yanno?” 

“Get out here,” Jason barks, “and keep your hands where I can see them, asshole. You’re lucky I didn’t blow the whole place up with you inside.” 

There’s a quiet little giggle that sends a chill down Jason’s spine. He’s trying to figure out why it sounds so familiar when a small figure steps out into the light, hands held up by his head. He’s wearing what looks like a kevlar bodysuit with an actual suit jacket overtop that looks like it’s seen better days. An arm and half of the side has been ripped off entirely, while the pants are nowhere to be seen. Thick soled boots cover his legs from slender ankles to muscled thighs. There are belts hanging from his waist and chest, connected to several different holsters. There’s a machine gun strapped to his back, what looks like a modified pistol with a silencer on his thigh and an assortment of knives on his arm. And that’s just what Jason can see. 

It’s the smile that gives it away though. Crooked and stretched around the scar tissue cutting up through his cheeks. Just like the smiles on the bodies of the Joker’s goons. 

“You,” Jason breathes, “you’re the one that’s been leaving bodies around the city.” 

“I would hardly say ‘m the only one,” comes the mild response. “You leave bodies behind almost every day.” 

“And yet you decided it was a good idea to break into one of my safe houses. Why?” 

“I wanted to meet you.”

“What?” 

He grins and gives a little wiggle of his fingers, like a mockery of a wave. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I even saw ya fly a few times, back when ya still had a shadow. I wanted t’ meet you now, to see if yer still the same.”

There’s only one shadow he could mean. It belongs to someone he’s been doing his best not to think about for months now. Instead, he focuses on the strange rise and fall of the stranger’s accent. It doesn’t sound natural. It’s as if every other sentence his brain catches up and realizes what he’s doing. Jason just can’t decide which one is the truth: the careless syllables or the posh upper crust accent. 

“Why now?” 

“I only got out recently—couldn’t come see ya, even if I tried. And then I got up ‘ere and saw those idiots dressed as clowns,” a dark look crosses his face. His smile turns sharper, more dangerous, but it doesn’t fade. “I couldn’t help myself.” 

“You were in Arkham?” 

“Something like that.” 

Jason doesn’t remember anyone like him visiting the cell he was kept in. Judging by his kills, he could’ve been on bad terms with the Clown. Then again, the Joker had run Arkham. If someone he didn’t like came in, they didn’t last very long.

Jason doesn’t lower his gun. 

“Who are you?”

For the first time, the smile disappears. His head tilts to the side like a bird. “Who am I?” He repeats. “I don’t really know.” 

Jason scoffs. “Bad place to come to find yourself, kid.” 

Another giggle raises the hairs at the back of his neck. “I lost myself a long time ago, Jason. I’m not looking anymore.” 

His name sends a chill down his twisted spine but Jason gives no outward signs of just how unsettled he is. “That doesn’t give me much of a reason to let you live.”

“No, I suppose not.” His hands drop to his sides as he moves to examine the shrapnel embedded into the wall. He pokes at a sharp edge carelessly, though his gloves hide any blood. He makes no sign of caring about the gun trained on his head. 

It’s really starting to piss Jason off. An unintimidated enemy is either stupid or has something up their sleeve. He’s not banking on stupid. 

“Tim,” he finally says, “that’s what my name was Before.”

“Tim,” Jason echoes, “get the fuck out of my house.” 

There’s a grin and a giggle and then he’s gone in a rain of smoke pellets. Jason waves it away from his face with a cough and wonders if he shouldn’t’ve just shot the bastard anyways. 

[krizariel]

There is a calm. A stillness to the air that betrays Jason's mind. He can breathe, ribs expanding with every breath easily. There's a voice in the back of his head, what was he doing just now?

At his feet, crumpled on the floor surrounded by fire and debris is a body.

No.

Not a body.

That's him.

The voice in his head is louder now. It's grief.

And yet Jason can't quite touch the feeling.

"No, I won't," a voice says.

Jason turns, everything slow and distorted, to see two figures. Both dressed in shrouds of black. The taller is a woman, blonde hair cascading down her shoulders in stark contrast to her clothes and the crown of black thorns she wears. The shorter one wears a hood, the shadow concealing their face from view.

The woman sighs, pursing her lips.

"You only get one."

One what, Jason wants to ask. Wants to ask a lot of things, actually, like who they were and what they were doing here.

"I can't," the other repeats. They sound young. Younger than Jason, he thinks. They turn their head, looking up at the woman and Jason barely gets a glimpse of their mouth as they say in defiance, "I won't take Robin."

The world goes cold, then hot, Jason's chest is exploding in pain.

When he wakes up it's to the sound of a heart monitor and the weight of Bruce slumped over his legs.

He tries to piece things together, holding on to a memory that slips through his fingers like water. It only gets harder when Bruce wakes, gingerly holding Jason's head with quaking hands as if he can't believe Jason is real. It only gets harder when Alfred and then Dick arrive, both looking just as haunted as Bruce.

They recount in shaking words that he'd nearly died.

Jason looks down at his hands, feeling the cool bedsheets beneath his fingers and wonders if he was supposed to.

[krizariel]

GIVEAWAY TIME

Good luck to all your JayTimJay Lovers! You can find our shop and the bundles here~ https://coderedzine.bigcartel.com

[krizariel]

🦇NEW❤️ RED ROBIN Glass cup!

Pre-Order on my Etsy shop🥰

[krizariel]

[krizariel]

“Hey Jason?” Tim padded across the apartment laptop open in his hand. “What is this?”

Jason pulled the earbuds from his ears raising an eyebrow. “Hmm? What are you- oh that, nothing.” He barely glanced at the screen before going back to his book.

Tim plucked the book from his hands and replaced it with the laptop. Pointing at the webpage. “Jason, you have a Zillow account and all that’s on it is you harassing landlords about their prices.”

“Yeah! It’s fucking ridiculous! Have you seen this shit lately?” Jason sat up clicking on one of the listings. “Look, look two bed one bath in Otisburg. 800 square feet, no laundry. The kitchen is the size of a closet and this asshat is asking for nineteen hundred a month!”

Tim crossed his arms shrugging. Jason frowned, clicking another listing. “Studio in Old Gotham, 670 square feet, one window! Laundry in the bathroom, the kitchen doesn’t even have a stove it’s a fucking hot plate! Guess how much!”

Sighing, Tim dropped his hands to his hips. “I don’t know Jason… $500?”

Jason licked his lips, his brows lowering. “Say sike right now… god damn. No! Twenty two hundred! Twenty two hundred dollars a month Timothy!”

“I mean it’s Old Gotham so…” Tim mumbled watching Jason’s left eye twitch.

“Upper East Side, town house. Three bed two bath, basement laundry shared with the other unit. Street parking, which they're charging extra for by the way!” Jason pointed a finger at Tim. “Three thousand seven hundred and ten dollars a fucking month!”

Tim flopped down by Jason’s feet on the couch. “Jason, I don’t see why you’re so riled up about this. You can’t just go calling people ‘leach sucking cunts.’”

“The parking is an extra $200 a month per car!” Jason screeched slamming the laptop closed.

“All of Gotham has adequate public transportation. Not everyone needs a car.”

Jason gently placed the laptop on the coffee table. “Timmy, when was the last time you took a city bus or rode the fucking subway?”

Tim pouted half rolling his eyes. “Irrelevant Jason. You still can’t go around calling landlords names and threatening them.” Tim squealed as Jason wrapped a hand around his ankle and yanked him half into Jason’s lap.

Looming over him Jason nipped his lower lip. “You’ve been half hard since you walked in the room baby bird. Clearly you think it’s hot.”

A flush burned Tim’s cheeks, he tried to turn away but Jason’s hand shot up grabbing his face. Tim breathed heavily through his nose avoiding Jason’s eye contact however he could.

He let out a low moan feeling Jason’s tongue trace the scar at his throat. “Okay fine! Yes I did think it was hot!” Tim admitted tipping his head further back once Jason let go of his face. Instead focused on leaving a deep mark under his jaw.

Jason popped off of Tim’s skin loudly. “You’re such a fuckin’ freak. God I love you!”

Humming Tim rolled his hips up grinding his full hard on into Jason’s thigh. “The landlord from Burnley, you’re not actually gonna put hair remover in his shampoo and steal his cat are you?”

Jason paused, resting his chin on Tim’s chest batting his eyelashes innocently. Tim hooked a leg around Jason’s knee, sending them both to the floor. Tim rolling on top straddling Jason’s waist. “Jason Peter Todd.”

“If Damian happens to have a new pet it’s not my fault!” Jason let Tim pin his hands next to his head. Tim briefly closed his eyes growling. “You gonna punish me for it?”

Tim sat back contemplating with his hands moving to hold Jason’s belt. “I don’t want to because you’d like it too much… but I also love hearing you beg and cry for me.”

[krizariel]

Care for a drink?

[krizariel]

Hey Jaytimjay lovers, this is a reminder that despite our zine being digital, it has been formatted to be printed! One of our lovely mods printed a physical copy to showcase how beautiful it looks! As a reminder, our shop's closing date is November 14th, so do not miss out! https://coderedzine.bigcartel.com

[krizariel]

Happy Pocky Day 🍫🍫🦊🦝💖💖

No need choco when u have raccoon meat

[krizariel]

Hello dear, I am Hala, a mother of four children from Gaza. We live in difficult circumstances in Gaza. Our dreams and future have been shattered. Our home has been destroyed and we have been displaced many times. Please donate participate to evacuate my children to their father in Egypt. Thank you.

Vetted by 90-ghost and gaza-evacuation-funds